


Truth for Truth

by hunting_in_wonderland2



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Episode: s05e12-13 The Diamond of the Day, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:09:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26921914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunting_in_wonderland2/pseuds/hunting_in_wonderland2
Summary: Instead of telling Arthur he had an urgent errand to run for Gaius before Camlann, Merlin confesses to being a sorcerer. Arthur makes his own confession in return.
Relationships: Gwaine/Percival (Merlin), Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 199





	1. I use it for you, Arthur, only for you

“I think you’ll find that’s everything, sire.”

“Impressive, very impressive. I’ve never seen work like it – well, not from you anyway,” Arthur said. Merlin chuckled at the backhanded compliment.

“Thank you, sire,” Merlin said, feeling unreasonably pleased. There was no reason for it really, but in that moment he felt proud. Proud to have served Arthur well. Proud to have earned even that small teasing compliment from him.

“So, what are you after?” Arthur asked.

“After?” Merlin’s brow pinched.

“Come on Merlin, you’re the worst servant in the history of the world, now suddenly this,” Arthur said, striding across the room, his back to Merlin. “Is it money?”

“No,” Merlin said, shoulders slumping just a little more than usual as his gaze shifted to his feet.

“No, it can’t be that, you’ve already won all of mine. Time off?” Arthur plucked a scroll from his desk and opened it as he walked back towards Merlin.

“Arthur…” Merlin snuck a glance at his king crossing the room. Gods, he looked beautiful. He always looked beautiful, but there was something about Arthur preparing for battle, having made a decision, getting ready to stand for what he believed in and lay down his life for his people that made Merlin go weak in the knees. He looked back down, studying the state of his boots.

“No, can’t be that either, you don’t really _do_ anything.” Arthur’s nose scrunched up in expression of thoughtful confusion.

“I just wanted to make sure you had everything you needed for your journey to Camlann, for the days ahead.” Merlin’s tone was short, and devoid of all it’s usual brightness. Arthur looked up, concern and confusion plain on his face.

“Thank you…” Arthur forgot about the scroll he was holding and studied Merlin, letting his friend’s word choice sink in. “Merlin, what do you mean my journey?”

Merlin finally tore his eyes from the floor to face Arthur. He had to look his king in the eye when his next words came out. His stomach turned at the mere thought of leaving Arthur now, in his time of greatest need, but there was no choice. Without his magic, Merlin was useless. He had to leave now, just for a little while, long enough to get his magic back, then he could return to Arthur’s side where he belonged. Merlin unclasped his hands behind his back, letting them fall to his sides and straightened his shoulders to meet Arthur’s intense gaze.

“I’m afraid I won’t be coming with you. Not his time.” _Tell him why._ Merlin thought. _Tell him why you’re not going. You owe him that much don’t you?_ The look of pure hurt in Arthur’s blue eyes was almost unbearable to watch. “I’m sorry,” Merlin said, his voice shaking. _Clotpole._ Merlin thought, squeezing his eyes shut. _Utter clotpole. This could be your last chance to tell him. To let him see you as you truly are. You’ll likely be dead before you speak to him again and he’ll have no idea what you’ve done for him._

“Did you just call me a clotpole?” Arthur asked, incredulous. Merlin’s eyes flicked open.

“What?” _Idiot,_ Merlin thought, scolding himself for muttering out loud.

“And an idiot? Merlin what the hell has gotten into you?” Arthur demanded, setting the scroll forcefully down on the table that separated them.

“I – what?” He definitely hadn’t said that out loud.

“Yes you did, I just heard you clear as day. Now I demand you explain why exactly I’m a clotpole and an idiot.” Arthur leaned over and placed his hands on the table, fingers spread, leaning on it waiting for Merlin to answer, eyebrows raised in expectation.

Merlin couldn’t help but stare. How many times had Arthur stood like that? How many times had he given Merlin that same look? But this time might be the last Merlin saw it and he drank it in until he caught himself lingering on Arthur’s lips. He tore his gaze away.

“I’m waiting.”

“Sire – I – I mean we – that is – you should sit,” Merlin spluttered.

“I think I’ll stand thank you Merlin, now quit stalling and explain yourself.”

“Arthur, _please._ ” The please seemed to change something in Arthur. His expression softened and he pulled out the chair beside him, settling slowly into it and resting his arms on the table, leaning towards Merlin. Merlin took a deep breath and ran a hand over his hair, making it stick up in every direction.

“Are you going to stand there dancing on the spot or are you going to sit down and talk to me Merlin?”

“Of course sire. Sorry sire.” Merlin said, plopping heavily down into a chair across from Arthur.

“Merlin, I understand if…if you’re too frightened. To come with me. I know this is unlike anything we’ve ever faced. For better or worse, the fate of Camelot will be decided with this battle. If it’s too much for you…” To Arthur’s surprise, Merlin laughed.

“How many times have I followed you to battle, sire? How many times have I stood at your side as you faced down impossible enemies? I have watched you risk your life a hundred times, for Camelot, for your friends, and been there every time. Do you really think I would leave you because I was scared?”

“Then tell me why you would leave me now.” Arthur’s voice was soft but commanding.

_Can you hear me?_ Merlin thought.

“Of course I can hear you, dollophead, you’re speaking right to me.”

_I’m not though. Look at my lips. They aren’t moving._ Arthur froze in astonishment for a moment before a look of anger swept over his features.

“Merlin, you will tell me what’s going on right this second or so help me I will throw you in the dungeons myself and leave you there to rot.”

“No, you can’t do that!”

“Merlin, you cannot speak to your king that way!” Merlin looked back down, studying his hands as heat crept into his cheeks.

“You’re right. Forgive me sire.” Merlin looked up, only meaning to steal a quick glance at Arthur to judge how angry he really was – he could always tell from just a glance – but was taken by the intensity and worry in Arthur’s eyes as he watched Merlin. “Right, well, for starters, you can hear my thoughts, apparently, which you shouldn’t be able to. You shouldn’t be able to hear my thoughts normally, and you really shouldn’t be able to hear them after that creature took my magic, so now I’m just –”

“Your what?” Arthur bellowed, his voice echoing off the stone walls in his chambers. Merlin squeezed his eyes shut again. That was not how he’d meant to say it. Arthur’s lips turned up in that thin, exaggerated smile that always meant Merlin was about to get hit or thrown in the stocks. “Merlin,” he purred. “Please tell me I heard you very wrong and you did not just say you have magic.”

“Had,” Merlin corrected. “I had magic, but Morgana sent a creature to take it from me. That’s…that’s why I can’t go with you, not yet and –”

“Shut up.”

“Sire I –”

“I said stop talking Merlin. I need a moment.” Arthur pushed himself to his feet and began pacing. Merlin squirmed in his chair and watched his king. Even filled with fury he was perfect. Merlin watched him pace, taking in everything in case he never saw it again. Arthur’s long, sure strides, steady even as he was breaking down. The sunlight through the glass window shining off his golden hair. The firm set of his jaw as he clenched it like he always did when he felt betrayed. Because Merlin had betrayed him. By lying. By keeping the truth from him for so many years.

Suddenly Arthur was looking at him. Gods how long had he been staring? Merlin fixed his attention back on his hands, trying to shove away the images dancing in his head that should absolutely not be there. Arthur’s hands were clasped behind his back.

“How long?” he demanded in the same tone he used when he had questioned Guinevere before banishing her. This was bad, this was very, very bad, Merlin thought.

“Sire?”

“How long have you had magic?” Arthur’s voice was strained, his words spaced out.

“I was born with it.”

“All this time, I’ve had a sorcerer for a manservant. Have you used your magic in Camelot?” Merlin laughed.

“Only to save your skin.” That was the wrong thing to say.

“ _Mer_ lin!” Merlin looked down at his lap, unable to meet Arthur’s gaze now. “Why did you never tell me?” Arthur asked

“I wanted to tell you sire. Gods, you have no idea how badly I wanted to tell you, I even came close a few times, but…”

“What?”

“You’d have chopped my head off.”

“I’m not sure what I’d have done.” Arthur stared intently at the wall behind Merlin, lost in imagining how he might have reacted, how things might have been different, had he known Merlin was a sorcerer.

“I didn’t want to put you in that position,” Merlin said quietly. Arthur sat and studied Merlin for a long time. Too long, Merlin thought. It gave him time to imagine all the things Arthur might say. He was sure that if Arthur lived through the next few days, he himself would certainly not. By Morgana’s hand, or Mordred’s, or Arthur’s, he would die.

“That’s what worried you?” Arthur said, the corner of his mouth twitching up. A good sign, Merlin thought. He took a moment to choose his next words.

“Some men are born to plow fields, some live to be great physicians, others…great kings. Me? I was born to serve you Arthur. And I’m proud of that. Which is why I couldn’t leave you without telling you the truth. You…you deserve to know. If I die now, I will die happy, knowing I did all I could for you, for Camelot, and that…that I finally told you the truth. I didn’t want you to think less of me.”

“Merlin,” Arthur breathed. The king was giving him a strange look and Merlin found himself looking back, wondering just how horrible it would really be if he crossed the table and pressed his lips to Arthur’s.

“Stand up.” Arthur said.

“Sire?” Merlin’s brow knitted together and his face turned hot from shame. How could he have thought such a thing. This was his king; he was a servant. And Gwen. Gods he could never do that to Gwen.

“For god’s sake Merlin will you never learn to obey your king? I said stand up,” Arthur said, rising from his own chair. Merlin couldn’t help but obey the tone of command. It was the one Arthur used on his knights when they had gone too far goofing off. Arthur rounded the table and stood close to Merlin. A little too close. Merlin could feel the warmth radiating off Arthur’s body and his breath caught.

“You know, all those jokes about you being a coward…I never really meant any of them. I always thought you were the bravest man I ever knew. Truly. What other man in all of Camelot would look his king in the eyes and admit to being a sorcerer so that he could run off to sacrifice his life in peace? Tell me.” Merlin snorted a laugh and the smile that spread across Arthur’s face lit the whole room. Arthur put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder.

“Thank you for your honesty Merlin,” Arthur said in his formal court voice. It made the smile disappear from Merlin’s face. “You have trusted me with a great truth and in light of what we’re about to face, I feel I must return the favour.”

Merlin was running through a list of possibilities of what Arthur could possibly mean by that when his thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of Arthur’s forehead pressing against his own. Merlin blinked hard several times, wondering how this was possible. He must be hallucinating, or dreaming, or dead. That was it. He was dead. Arthur had actually cut him down where he stood as soon as he had admitted to being a sorcerer and now he was dead, being tormented by the thought of Arthur feeling the same way he did. Arthur’s hand slid from Merlin’s shoulder to the back of his neck and lingered there. He moved slowly, as if he was worried about startling Merlin, bringing his face closer and closer to Merlin’s. Their lips brushed together lightly and Merlin did absolutely nothing to stop it. Arthur pressed his lips to Merlin’s gently, like a butterfly lighting on a flower. He stayed there, not moving, giving Merlin a chance to stop it, to push him away, but desperately hoping he wouldn’t. Merlin let his breath out in a sigh.

“Arthur.” The king took that as encouragement and at last pushed his lips against Merlin’s, taking a chance and flicking his tongue into Merlin’s mouth. Gods he tasted good. Better than Arthur had imagined. To both of their surprises, Merlin gave a low moan and leaned into Arthur. When he realized this was in fact real, Merlin pushed away, dazed.

“But – Gwen – how could – we couldn’t possibly…” Arthur silenced Merlin with another thorough kiss.

“I love Guinevere, as you do. But she is an incredibly smart woman, the smartest I ever met in fact. She knew my feelings for you before I knew them myself. Why do you think I don’t have an heir, Merlin?”

“I – I always just thought…”

“That Guinevere couldn’t bear children?”

“Well…Yes, sire.” Merlin blushed again then a worried expression crossed his face. “Arthur, is this really…I mean…if you don’t…gods, please tell me this is real.”

Arthur laughed and kissed Merlin again, running his hands through Merlin’s hair.

“You still haven’t actually told me why you have to leave,” Arthur said against his lips.

“Oh. Right. Well – I – um. Morgana. Mordred told her who I am and Morgana sent a creature of the old religion to take my magic. It’s gone now though. Gaius killed it with a shovel.” Arthur pulled back to look Merlin in the eye.

“How does Mordred know about you?”

“It’s…a long story. Very long story. Which I promise I will tell you, in good time. But if Camelot is to stand any chance against Morgana, I must go now. To the Crystal Cave in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. It’s…it’s the birthplace of magic. It’s the only place I might be able to get my powers back.”

“The Valley of the Fallen Kings is crawling with bandits! You’ll be dead before you get anywhere near this Crystal Cave! I’m going with you.”

“No, you can’t!”

“Merlin, I’m the king, you can’t tell me what to do.”

“I always have, that’s not going to change now. Your men need you to lead them to Camlann. Your people need you, Arthur. Without you, Camelot is nothing. I will meet you at Camlann once I have my powers back, you have my word, sire.” Arthur looked into Merlin’s eyes for so long Merlin lost track of time.

“Alright,” he said eventually. “But you’re not to go alone, do you understand me?”

“Of course, sire. I was going to ask Gwaine to accompany me.”

“Gwaine. Yes. Good choice. Does he…?”

“I haven’t told him about my magic no. But he is much more clever than people give him credit for. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d figured it out.” Arthur’s hand moved down the side of Merlin’s body from where it rested on his neck, to clasp their hands together.

“You’d best get going if you’re to meet me at Camlann. Take my horse, it’s the fastest in the stables.”

“But, sire, you’ll need –”

“You really need to learn to listen to your king Merlin. If I was anyone else you’d have been hanged for your insolence long before now. And when I see you again, we’re going to have a good long chat where you tell me everything you’ve been keeping from me, do you understand?”

“Yes, sire.” Arthur nudged Merlin towards the door.

“Merlin?” he called when Merlin was halfway through the door. “Be careful,” were the words that left his mouth, but they sounded very much like _I love you_ to Merlin’s ears.

“You too, sire.”


	2. a worthless servant with all that power

“Are you planning to tell me where we’re going Merlin? Or am I to just follow you blindly?” Gwaine asked. Merlin grinned.

“Since when do you need to know what’s going on?”

“Since you’re leaving Camelot on the eve of the biggest battle we’ve ever faced and dragging me along with you,” Gwaine said, flipping his hair out of his face. Merlin grew suddenly serious.

“I promise you it’s for a good reason Gwaine.”

“I trust you, Merlin. Always have,” Gwaine said, studying Merlin far too intensely for comfort.

“I will tell you what this is about, but not here.” Merlin spurred his horse forward and galloped through the gates of Camelot faster than he had ever ridden before. Arthur had been right. His horse was the fastest in the stables. Even Gwaine was having trouble keeping up and he was by far the better horseman.

Once they had gotten far enough into the woods Merlin finally slowed to a trot, allowing Gwaine to pull up beside him. Gwaine was quiet for once, knowing Merlin would speak when he felt ready.

“We’re going to the Valley of the Fallen Kings,” Merlin blurted.

“The Valley of the Fallen Kings? Have you finally gone mad then?”

“No. There’s a reason, a good one, I swear.”

“I believe you Merlin, but I don’t like it.”

“I promise – it’s just – I can’t – oh sod it.” Merlin was tired. So very tired. Of lying, and sneaking, and hiding who he was. “I’m a sorcerer. Not just any sorcerer, I was born of magic. The druids say I’m the most powerful one ever to walk the earth. I need to go to a place called the crystal cave. It’s the source of all magic and I need to go because Mordred knows what I am and told Morgana who sent a creature of the old religion to steal my magic so now I need to go and get it back so I can join Arthur at Camlann and save Camelot.”

“Hah. Percival owes me five gold coins,” Gwaine said. Merlin laughed and shook his head.

“I knew you’d have it figured out.”

“Please Merlin. I knew from the day I met you that you had magic. Do you really think I believed a scrawny thing like you could survive a tavern brawl without a little extra help?” He reached over the punched Merlin gently on the shoulder.

“Who else knows?” Merlin asked.

“No one for sure. Gwen suspects, and Leon, but the rest are too bloody daft to see anything.” Merlin laughed at that.

“Apparently Gwen see’s more than anyone realizes,” Merlin said without thinking. Gwaine gave him a funny look and spent a few minutes studying him.

“Gods, he finally did it didn’t he?”

“Who did what?” Merlin snapped.

“Bloody hell, Percival owes me thirty gold coins now.”

“Gwaine,” Merlin said without amusement.

“That bloody tosspot of a king finally told you how he felt didn’t he?”

“How could you possibly know that?” Merlin asked, only realizing when it was too late that he hadn’t denied it. He squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his hold on the reins, spurring Arthur’s horse ahead to the sound of Gwaine’s laughter behind him. Gwaine caught up to him easily.

“It’s alright Merlin. Everyone knew.”

“Everyone?”

“I mean, we had bets on whether either of you two idiots were going to do anything about it. In fact, I owe Gwen ten gold now.”

“Gwen was in on it?”

“In on it? She started the betting after she became queen,” Gwaine said. Merlin could hardly wrap his head around it. Gwen had known this whole time. Suddenly all those sly smiles and sneaky looks made a bit more sense. Merlin couldn’t help but feel guilty though. Gwen loved Arthur, that much was obvious. But she’d also loved Lancelot, and now it was Merlin’s fault that she couldn't have either of the men she loved.

“So have you…?” Gwaine asked, waggling his eyebrows at Merlin.

“Gwaine!” Merlin reached over and smacked Gwaine on the arm, which did absolutely nothing to deter him. Both of them were smiling like idiots when they crossed into the Valley of the Fallen Kings. They dismounted and walked the rest of the way on foot. When they were nearly at the mouth of the crystal cave, Merlin froze. Something was wrong. All of a sudden, two bandits jumped out of the foliage. Gwaine, sword already drawn, got straight to work fighting them off. The clash of steel rang through the valley. While Gwaine had one bandit occupied, the second turned on Merlin. Merlin panicked. He felt entirely too vulnerable. Without magic, he truly couldn’t defend himself. The bandit advanced on him and he backed away, tripping over a root and falling hard to the ground.

“Gwaine!” he shouted, sure he was going to die before Gwaine could save him. He squeezed his eyes shut until the sound of steel sliding through flesh forced him to open them again, just in time to see Gwaine stick his sword backwards into the bandit behind him, the one that had advanced on Merlin already dead at their feet. Gwaine held his hand out to Merlin.

“Thank you,” he said, letting Gwaine haul him up.

“No need to thank me Merlin. It’s the least I could do,” Gwaine said, patting Merlin’s arm. When they reached the mouth of the cave, Merlin stopped.

“I can make my own way from here.”

“Sorry?” Gwaine said, confused. 

“You needn’t come any further, I’ll be fine.”

“How will you get back to Camelot? There are bandits everywhere.”

“Once I have what I’m looking for I’ll be perfectly safe I promise you.”

“Ah, right. Most powerful sorcerer ever.”

“You’ll have to trust me Gwaine.” Gwaine studied Merlin more intently than he had in all the time they’d known each other. “You should get going. Arthur will need you by his side.”

“We both know the king would kill me if I let anything happen to you,” Gwaine said.

“You really should leave now, Gwaine. Once I have my magic back, I’ll be able to fend for myself perfectly well. Arthur needs you more than I do.”

“Well, lead on Merlin.”

“I said you can leave me now.”

“And leave you to your own devices? I’m serious, Arthur would have my head if he found out I left you here by yourself. I’m coming with you.”

“Gwaine, no. I must do this alone.”

“At least let me wait out here to escort you back then. We both know Arthur would just send me right back if I showed up without you.” Merlin thought about arguing further but knew there was no way he would win this fight. 

“Fine. But you are not to enter the cave, no matter what. Promise me.”

“Merlin…”

“Promise me Gwaine,” Merlin said, desperate for his friend to listen. Gwaine let his breath out in a huff.

“Fine. I promise. Now go get your magic back. Camelot needs you just as much as it needs Arthur,” Gwaine said, shooing Merlin towards the cave. Merlin ducked his head and smiled at his friend.

“If I’m not back by dusk, come looking for me,” he said. Gwaine nodded and his eyes moved to the treeline, on watch for any threat.

* * * * *

“Merlin!” A voice shouted, waking Merlin from a daze. “Merlin! Are you alright?” Gwaine. Merlin sat up and swayed, dizzy. Morgana had knocked him out and trapped him in the cave. He stood too quickly and fell back, then tried again more carefully.

“Gwaine! I’m here, I’m alright!” The sound of quiet, heartfelt cursing followed for a few moments before the sound of rocks scraping and falling. Merlin moved forward to start trying to dig his way out as well. He grabbed stones at random, frantically flinging them at the ground but nothing happened.

“It’s not use, I’ll never get out in time,” he shouted to Gwaine. “Just go. Arthur needs you. I’ll be fine. I will meet you at Camlann.” Merlin didn’t believe his words himself, he was sure Gwaine would see right through him. There was silence for a while.

“Alright. But if I lose my head because you don’t show up I’ll kill you myself,” Gwaine said softly.

“Goodbye Gwaine,” Merlin whispered. He looked around the cave for another way out and spotted a glow coming from beyond a high ledge. He could climb that, he thought. 

Merlin hauled himself up to the ledge, searching for hand and footholds in the rock. It took ages, but at last he pulled himself up and collapsed.

“Merlin,” a voice whispered, waking him. “Merlin.” Merlin groaned and opened his eyes. He knew that voice.

“Father.” He turned towards the voice and found Balinor standing over him, filled with soft blue light.

“My son.”

“Are you here? Are you real?”

“Dead or alive, real or imagined, past or present, these things are of no consequence. All that matters is that you heed the words of your father who loves you. Do not let go Merlin, do not give in,” Balinor said softly. Merlin’s heart was breaking inside him.

“I have no reason to go on. The battle is already over. Morgana has won.”

“Only if you accept defeat. But if you fight, if you let hope into your heart, Morgana cannot be victorious,” Balinor said fiercely, willing his son to listen.

“What hope is there without my magic?” Merlin was useless without magic. He hadn’t even been able to defend himself against a single bandit. Without Gwaine escorting him here, he would surely have died. There was nothing he could possibly do for anyone now. Balinor knelt next to him.

“Merlin, you are more than a son of your father. You are son of the earth, the sea, the sky. Magic is the fabric of this world, and you were born of that magic. You are magic itself, you cannot lose what you are.”

“How do I find myself again?” Merlin asked, unconvinced still.

“Believe, Merlin,” his father said. “Believe what your heart knows to be true, that you have always been, and always will be.”

“Always will be…” there was something significant there, but Merlin could not quite figure it out. He was so tired. If only he could close his eyes, just for a few minutes.

“Rest now,” Balinor said, his voice more comforting than the softest blanket in Camelot. “Rest, my son, and soon you will awaken into the light.”

With the last of his father’s words a deep sense of peace washed over Merlin. It felt as if the fabric of the world itself were being pulled over him and he lost himself to the dark.

Merlin woke feeling…good. That was odd. He tried sitting up and, on finding that he could without a problem, scrambled to his knees, rubbing dirt out of his eyes. He looked around for his father but found himself alone in the cave.

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and hoped beyond hope that his power was back. That by some miracle the cave had given him back his magic so he could return to Arthur’s side where he belonged. He cupped his hands together gently in front of his mouth and muttered a spell, not daring to let himself expect anything until a flutter tickled his palm. He opened his hands slowly and a small blue butterfly alighted from his fingers. His magic was back. Merlin had his magic back, he was himself again, and Arthur finally knew the truth and Arthur had _kissed_ him and whatever was about to come, he could face it with a light heart.

Then the reality came crashing down again and Merlin wondered how long he had been unconscious. What was happening at Camlann? He looked around and chose a crystal, reaching out a hand and bending the stones to his will, making them show him what he wanted to see. He was bombarded by a blur of visions he couldn’t grasp. He stopped, shook his head and tried again.

Mordred on horseback. A massive army marching through the mountains. A secret pass at Arthur’s flank. _No. Arthur. Where are you?_ Merlin searched frantically for Arthur. Through a flash of images, he found him laying in his camp bed, alone.

“Arthur I’m sorry I had to leave you, I didn’t want to,” Merlin said to the crystal bearing Arthur’s image. “I know you understand why. Your plan is a good one and we may yet save this kingdom but you must beware. Your armies flank is vulnerable. There’s an old path over the ridge at Camlann, Morgana knows if it. She means to trap you Arthur. Find the path, or the battle will be over before it’s begun. Find the path.”


	3. camlann

Arthur woke from a deep, dreamless sleep to the sound of Merlin’s voice. It took him a moment to remember where he was, and that Merlin wasn’t here. But he’d just spoken to him, he could swear. Then the words Merlin’s voice had said hit him. Arthur threw off the covers and snatched his gambeson from where it lay on the floor, pulling it on as he pushed the tent flap aside. Leon spotted him as soon as he’d left his tent.

“Sire. The scouts report that Morgana’s army is on the move.”

“She’ll attack before the night’s done, tell the men to prepare,” Arthur said. He sent Leon on his way with a pat on the arm and turned to look for the rest of his knights. Gwaine and Percival stood at the tent closest to Arthur’s own. Arthur was surprised to see Gwaine and was tempted to look around for Merlin but knew he wouldn’t be there. He ached to interrogate Gwaine. Where was Merlin? What had happened? Why was he not here? But there was no time. If they were to save Camelot, Arthur needed to focus on what was in front of him, not get lost in worry over Merlin.

“Gwaine, Percival. Take a patrol of men to the rear of us. You’re looking for a hidden path running into the mountains. She means to outflank us, we must stop her now.” The two ran off to gather the best men and do as he was bid. Arthur went to assemble the rest of the army.

* * * * *

Merlin turned away from the crystal, satisfied. He had warned Arthur. He’d been in time.

“Thank you, for your help, your guidance,” Merlin said to his father, smiling.

“I only offered a hand,” Balinor insisted. “You stand tall on your own two feet Merlin, you always have done.” The corners of Merlin’s mouth twitched, threatening a smile. He had no need for paternal affirmations, but it felt good to be appreciated.

“As did you, father.” Balinor snorted at that. “I follow in your footsteps.” Merlin meant it. Even the short time he had known his father had been enough for Merlin to know that Balinor had been an incredible man – one worth taking after, one he was proud to call his father. Merlin only wanted to live up to that greatness.

“Your journey has only just begun,” Balinor said, turning solemn. “You wield a power you cannot yet conceive of. Only in the heart of the crystal cave will your true self be revealed.” Balinor turned and Merlin shifted his body to follow his father’s gaze deeper into the cave. Balinor moved his gaze to his son.

“Move towards the light. Your destiny awaits.”

Merlin was under the impression that he had been working himself to death for several years already, trying to fulfill his destiny, but between his fathers tone and the aura of pure magic in the crystal cave, he felt the weight of the world pushing him to listen. Merlin’s life was about to change, that much he knew for certain. He thought of Arthur walking through camp, rallying his knights, giving his battle speech, and felt a pang in his chest.

“Do not be afraid,” his father whispered and Merlin turned to look at him. “Trust in what you are. Trust in what will be.

Merlin thought of the prophecy, of his own role in it, of his father’s earlier words. He didn’t just have magic, he _was_ magic, and Arthur would be the king of a united Albion, and Merlin will have helped build it. He did have trust in that. He had doubted it until this very moment, but his father’s presence and the magic of the cave filled him with a confidence in himself and his king and his destiny that he had not had until now.

Merlin stepped away from Balinor, toward the light refracting off the crystals in the heart of the cave.

“Goodbye father,” he said, turning briefly to look at his father for what he knew would be the last time.

“There are no goodbyes Emrys, for I will always be, as you will always be.”

Merlin nodded at his father then turned and walked into the light.

The physical world dropped away and everything but the light and the feeling of magic flowing through his veins ceased to matter. He was weightless, immaterial. The blinding brightness was all around him, it was in him, it _was_ him. Raw power flowed up and into him and then back to the earth and he ceased to be Merlin, or Emrys. He was no longer a servant or a sorcerer, he simply was and it felt amazing. He was connected to the earth, the sea’s, the sky, just as his father had said. He could _feel_ everything and it’s interconnectedness – the growth and life in the earth, the ebb and flow of the sea’s, the vastness of the sky. He could have stayed like that forever, but something kept him anchored and wouldn’t let him linger. _Arthur_. The world came crashing back.

Merlin was almost back to the horses when he stopped dead. The forest around him was too quiet, the vibrations of the world off just a little. He crested the last ridge before the spot where he and Gwaine had left their horses and found five bandits waiting for him. Two were going through his saddlebags, throwing his provisions on the ground in search of something more valuable. Good luck with that, Merlin thought. He’d only brough absolute necessities, needing speed more than anything. Gwaine’s horse was gone. Good, he’d listened for once.

When the bandits saw him, they all turned and drew their swords. Merlin was exhausted and exhilarated all at once. Arthur needed him. He had no time for bandits and he was far too tired to pretend to be anything other than what he was anymore. He waved a hand and sent the bodies of all five bandits flying before swinging himself into his saddle and pushing his horse to a full gallop. Had that always been that easy?

Merlin knew exactly where he was headed. There was a ridge that would overlook the spot the battle was to take place, that was where he needed to be. He pushed his horse past the usual point of exhaustion with a little magic. He felt a bit guilty about it, but he needed to get to Arthur. After what felt like forever, he reached the bottom of the hill he would climb. He thought briefly about aging up but decided against it. Arthur already knew, what more harm could anyone else possibly do? No. There was no way he could make his situation worse, just this once he would protect everything and everyone he loved openly, as himself. It felt right after everything he’d gone through in the crystal cave.

He reached the top of the ridge and surveyed the battlefield. The knights of Camelot were losing badly. They were putting up a valiant fight, but Morgana’s forces outnumbered them five to one. Merlin took a deep breath, focused his magic, spoke an incantation, and sent hundreds of Morgana’s men flying with the wave of a hand. Then he did it again, and again, until the battle had turned and Arthur’s forces outnumbered Morgana’s.

A familiar flapping sound filled the air and Aithusa descended on the battle, burning Camelot’s knights to nothing. A wave of pure anger ripped through Merlin. _He_ had uncovered the dragon egg, _he_ had saved it from destruction under Arthur’s nose, _he_ had called her forth into the world, given her her name and her life, and now Morgana would use her to destroy everything he had worked so long to build and protect. No. Merlin amplified his voice and shouted in the dragon tongue, the strange words echoing off the rocks of Camlann. Aithusa swerved up and flew away, just like that. No dragon could refuse the command of a dragonlord, and Merlin now knew he was much more than that.

With the dragon gone, and the numbers more than evened out, Merlin scanned the field for Arthur and found his king looking up at the ridge where he stood with awe. They stared at each other for a long moment before Merlin gave a small bow. Merlin heard the faint echo of Arthur’s shout “for the love of Camelot!” as his king led the remaining knights in a charge against the last of Morgana’s army with a new energy. Then Merlin let himself look for Mordred.

Mordred was picking his way across the field, straight towards Arthur. Merlin took advantage of the psychic link of the druids.

_Mordred, do not do this._

_You gave me no choice, Emrys._

_This doesn’t have to happen, Mordred. Please. Your army has lost. I don’t want to hurt you._

_Winning the war is Morgana’s goal, not mine. I have but one purpose._

Mordred was mere feet from Arthur now, who finally noticed him approaching. Arthur stopped fighting, lowering his sword slightly. That had always been his weakness, Merlin thought. In spite of all the times he had been betrayed, Arthur always thought the best of people. Mordred looked away from Merlin and advanced on Arthur. Arthur hadn’t really been expecting it. Merlin had.

Mordred pulled his sword back to swing at Arthur. A great roar from the depth of Merlin’s being echoed across the battlefield and a bolt of lightening arced down from the sky and threw Mordred back. The druid boy was dead at last, but Merlin’s gaze was only for Arthur, who had fallen to his knees in the middle of the field.

In a blink, Merlin was kneeling next to his king.

“Arthur,” he breathed.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, before falling into Merlin’s arms. Merlin scooped Arthur up as if he weighed nothing and carried his king off the field, stepping over the bodies of their friends.


	4. i'm glad you told me the truth

Arthur woke to Merlin crouched over a pile of twigs, struggling to get the kindling to catch with a flint.

“Why don’t you just use magic?”

“Arthur! How are you feeling?” Merlin said, dropping the flint and rushing to Arthur’s side.

Arthur tried to sit up but a sharp pain in his side stopped him and he fell right back. He let out a groan of agony.

“It’s alright, lay back, you’re injured,” Merlin said, putting a hand gently on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur let out a low chuckle.

“That’s alright, I thought I was dying.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said, his face dropping into an expression of sorrow. “I thought I’d defied the prophecy. I thought I was in time.”

Seeing Merlin’s expression, Arthur wanted more than anything to reach up and touch his cheek, reassure him, comfort him, replace that agony with any other expression.

“What are you talking about?” Arthur asked. Merlin dropped into a sitting position with a soft thud on the grass next to Arthur and heaved a sigh.

“It’s a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?” Merlin asked, eyes meeting Arthur’s as though he could see past the king’s face and straight into his soul.

“Whether I want to is of no consequence, Merlin. I need to know. Everything.”

“Everything…right.” Merlin moved back to the unlit fire, searching for the flint he had dropped.

“Merlin.” Arthur waited for Merlin to look at him and nodded towards the fire with a gesture. Merlin paused for a moment then simply nodded at the pile of kindling and the fire crackled to life. Merlin cleared his throat.

“Feels strange,” he said. Arthur grunted in agreement.

“But commanding dragons and calling lightening down from the sky, and taking out hundreds of warriors with a wave of your hand isn’t?” Arthur asked.

“Ah. You – um – saw that did you?”

“ _Mer_ lin, everyone saw that. It isn’t every day half an army simply goes flying before your eyes.” Arthur was quiet for so long Merlin thought he’d done talking and was figuring out where to start with the prophecy and their destiny when Arthur finally spoke again. “All this time, I thought I had been the one protecting Camelot, fighting any threat, leading the knights into battle, defeating all manner of magic creatures. I thought I was the one protecting you, I thought you needed protecting, but…it’s been the other way around all along.”

“Arthur no, that’s not –”

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur said. To Arthur’s surprise, Merlin did stop speaking, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I truly wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for you, would I?” Arthur asked, eyeing Merlin in wonder.

The corners of Merlin’s lips twitched as if he was fighting back a snarky retort but he grew serious again quickly.

“Nor I without you, sire. As is our destiny.”

Arthur laid back and closed his eyes. Merlin watched the rise and fall of his chest for a while before turning away to add more wood to the fire and start putting together what dinner could be made from the meagre provisions they had. Arthur had been quiet so long Merlin thought he’d fallen asleep until he spoke again, making Merlin jump.

“You still owe me an explanation.”

Merlin kept his gaze anywhere but on Arthur. When he had confessed to being a sorcerer he had been almost defiant, daring Arthur to sentence him to death on the eve of battle, watching Arthur to gauge his reaction. Now he found he couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Where would you like me to start?” Merlin asked.

“Well, first, you can look at your king when addressing him,” Arthur said. Merlin slowly let his gaze turn and settle on Arthur, face illuminated gold by the fire. “That’s better. Now, start…at the beginning, I suppose.”

“Do you remember the day we met? I stood up to you and you said you could take me apart with one blow.”

“You said you could take me apart with less than that. And then I tried to take your head off with a mace,” Arthur said. Merlin crossed the fire and sat crossed legged beside Arthur.

“And I stopped you, using magic,” Merlin said, his mouth twitching into a small smile at the memory of ducking around market stalls and dodging Arthur’s swings. Arthur’s eyes widened and he tilted his head towards Merlin.

“You cheated.”

“You were trying to kill me,” Merlin said, laughing.

“I should have,” Arthur said without thinking. The laughter was gone off Merlin’s face in an instant, replaced with a mixture of fear and grief.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Merlin said, staring into the fire.

“As am I,” Arthur said, reaching out and placing his hand over Merlin’s, bringing him back to the present. Merlin shuddered at the touch and looked at Arthur once more. “Tell me everything,” Arthur demanded.

“Everything?” Merlin cocked his head and raised an eyebrow at Arthur. Everything would take a long time.

“Alright, start with the important bits then fill in the details after.”

“As you say, sire.”

Merlin told Arthur everything. Starting with the prophecy and their destinies, and his visits to the cavern under the castle for advice from Kilgarrah. He started to slow and stumble over words when he got near the bit about searching for Balinor. He hoped Arthur wouldn’t notice, but of course, the king chose then to actually pay attention to Merlin for once.

“Merlin, what are you leaving out?”

“Nothing – it’s – I –”

“ _Mer_ lin.”

Merlin huffed and ran a hand through his hair. Arthur raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Do you remember that dragonlord we went looking for?” Merlin asked.

“Balinor?”

“Yes.” Merlin took another deep breath. “He was my father. I didn’t know until the day we left. Gaius told me right before.” Merlin watched Arthur’s expression slowly change from confusion to understanding as he thought through the events of the dragon’s attacks and the quest to find Balinor.

“Your father…” Arthur whispered. “Gods, Merlin. And I told you he wasn’t worth your tears. Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I wanted to but… Uther would never have trusted me again, knowing I was the son of a dragonlord, he would have been deeply suspicious, and besides, the dragon was still attacking Camelot, you had enough to worry about.” Merlin’s eyes darted between the ground and Arthur’s face, which was studying Merlin with an uncomfortable intensity.

“You don’t really think I would have told my father, do you?”

“Of course…not – of course not – I mean –”

“Merlin, I –” Arthur interrupted, not quite knowing what to say, but not wanting Merlin to actually answer. “I understand why you didn’t tell me. I just…wish you had felt you could. I’m sorry for that.” Arthur squeezed Merlin’s hand. Merlin looked down at Arthur’s hand atop his as if he had only just realized it was there.

“I – thank you,” Merlin said. He stood suddenly and started laying out the bedrolls. “We should get some rest. Your wound is beyond my abilities. Gaius said the only place you can be healed is the Lake of Avalon, we’ve got a long journey ahead of us.” Merlin laid out Arthur’s bedroll first, scooting the king onto it and covering him with a blanket before laying out his own on the other side of the fire.

“Merlin, what are you doing?” Merlin paused and looked confused.

“Laying out my bedroll, like always?”

“Put it over here,” Arthur said, nodding to the empty space beside him.

“Sire,” Merlin breathed.

“It’s cold. You haven’t got a blanket,” Arthur said. The practicality of the statement seemed to convince Merlin if the outright invitation hadn’t. He crossed to Arthur slowly and laid out the bedroll carefully, smoothing all the creases.

“Stop being ridiculous, Merlin, we’ve slept this close together countless times.”

“But that was –”

“Different? Hardly, though I suppose this time I won’t have to use every ounce of control I have not to put my arm around you or brush your hair away from your eyes. That is if you –”

“Yes,” Merlin said quickly. “I mean, I would like that.”

Arthur tried to lift the blanket for Merlin to crawl under but the movement sent a fresh ripple of agony along his side and he dropped the blanket with a hiss. Merlin was on his knees beside him in an instant, lifting his shirt to check the wound.

“You should have let me. I really couldn’t do anything about the wound. You need to be careful.”

“Right, I’ll remember that,” Arthur said with a grimace. After ensuring Arthur’s bandages were still secure and not in need of changing, Merlin lifted the blanket and crawled under, stretching out along Arthur’s good side.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, wanting to say something, but not quite knowing how to string the right words together.

“Yes?” Merlin said sleepily. Arthur was used to pushing aside physical needs when things needed to get done, he forgot that Merlin often did as much as Arthur himself – more likely, now that he thought about it – and had very likely ignored his own exhaustion and hunger hundreds of times to run around saving the kingdom. Arthur felt a pang of guilt at that. He should have paid more attention, perhaps he would have seen the truth it if he had.

“I’m glad you told me the truth. I…don’t know that I would have been able to go to battle not knowing why you couldn’t be there. Even knowing where you’d gone and why, it was… I had to put my own armor on you know,” Arthur finished indignantly. Merlin snorted.

“You’re the king, you could have made anyone put on your armor.”

Arthur looked baffled at that, as though the thought of anyone but Merlin dressing him for battle hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“Yes, well, no one knows how to do it like you, I’d have had to adjust it all myself anyways. A king can’t lead an army in the most important battle of his life in ill-fitting armor.”

“Of course not,” Merlin said, smiling. Merlin grew quiet and the smile faded slowly. “I’m glad you told me the truth too, Arthur,” he said, rolling over to face Arthur and resting his arm gently on Arthur’s chest as he made himself comfortable with his cheek on Arthur’s shoulder and twined their legs together.

“I thought we were both going to die,” Arthur said. “It’s the same reason you told me, I suppose. I couldn’t die without saying something. I needed you to know. I needed to know if you…” Arthur’s arm tightened around Merlin. Merlin burrowed his face into Arthur’s neck.

“Did you know the knights had running bets on it? Whether either of us would tell each other our secrets? Apparently, Percival owes Gwaine quite a lot of money.”

“They what? How could they – if Guinevere had ever found out –”

Merlin laughed at Arthur’s outrage.

“Gwaine said Gwen was the one who started it.” Arthur was shocked into silence at that. Merlin let out a deep breath and settled at Arthur’s side.

“Come on, let’s get some sleep. We’ve a long way to go tomorrow and I want to get an early start. We’re still too close to Camlann, Morgana will be after us before long.”

Arthur pressed a light kiss to the top of Merlin’s head, enjoying the shudder it sent through Merlin’s body. Arthur tried to stay awake a little longer, wanting nothing more than to take in the sight of Merlin curled against him. It was a sight he never thought he would see and under any other circumstances he would have lost any amount of sleep to bask in it, but with everything that had happened, he was exhausted beyond measure. Sleep tugged at him and the steady rhythm of Merlin’s breathing lulled him into unconsciousness faster than any of Gaius’s sleeping draughts.


	5. there will never be another like you

“Arthur, wake up,” Merlin said, crouching beside his king. Arthur woke slowly, too slowly for Merlin’s liking. “Come on, we need to get moving.”

Merlin had already smothered the fire and packed up everything except Arthur himself. The horses stood nearby, stamping impatiently, sensing Merlin’s eagerness to be on the move. Merlin helped Arthur to his feet and between the two of them, they were able to get Arthur on his horse without much trouble.

Merlin led them through the forest at a slow pace all morning, only stopping for a short rest at midday. Arthur was growing far too weak far too fast. Merlin was worried. It frustrated him to no end that even with all his power, with the earth and sea and sky at his beck and call, he was powerless when it came to the one thing that mattered.

Around mid-afternoon they had left the forest and started across a wide plain when Merlin spotted two riders coming up behind them.

“Saxons” he said, sliding off his horse. “I’ll deal with them. Keep your head down. Don’t speak.” He snatched his own tattered, brown cloak off his horse and threw it over Arthur’s shoulders to hide his armor. Arthur lurched on his horse and for a moment, Merlin thought he was going to fall, but he managed to keep himself in the saddle.

The plain they were crossing dipped down to the west into a tree-filled valley. Merlin nodded and smoke drifted up from the trees as if a fire had just been put out. Then turned and waved down the Saxons who had slowed and were approaching.

“Help us!” he called. The two gruff looking men slid off their own horses and sidled towards Merlin. “Please, you have to help us, we were ambushed.”

“By who?” one of the Saxons asked.

“Two men.”

“What’d they look like?”

“Uh, one was – uh – a knight,” Merlin said, glancing at Arthur. Shit. He hadn’t covered Arthur’s sword with the cloak. “They stormed our camp.” Merlin pointed at the smoke drifting up from the trees. When the Saxon’s moved to look, Merlin moved quickly back to Arthur’s side and flicked the cloak so his sword was concealed.

“You sure it was a Camelot knight?” the bald Saxon asked, getting uncomfortably close to Merlin.

“Yeah.”

The Saxon put a hand on Merlin’s chest to push him out of the way and ripped the cloak off Arthur, revealing the sword and armor. Both Saxons’ drew their weapons. Merlin thrust his hands out and sent them both flying in the blink of an eye before turning back to Arthur who was leaning forward on his horse, watching Merlin intently.

“You lied all this time,” Arthur said.

Merlin deserved that, he thought. He deserved to feel the dull ache that spread through his chest at the mention of how long he’d been lying blatantly to first his prince’s face, then his king’s, and his friend’s. Merlin swung himself back onto his horse and refused to meet Arthur’s gaze.

“Merlin – I didn’t mean – it’s just, I’m not used to it is all.”

“I know,” was all Merlin said.

He maintained his brooding silence until after they had stopped for the night and he started to set up camp. He lit the fire with magic, as he had the night before, glancing briefly at Arthur after he did it. He still wasn’t used to doing magic in front of Arthur – it was a strange sensation. He moved to slip Arthur’s boots off and set them by the fire.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked, his grouchy tone indicating that he had not taken Merlin’s silence well.

“They need drying,” Merlin said.

Merlin puttered about, setting a pot on the coals on the edge of the fire and adding bits of whatever they had in the saddlebags to cook. After a while, he spooned some of the food into a wooden bowl and brought it over to Arthur.

“Here. This will be good for you,” he said, holding the spoon in front of Arthur’s mouth.

“Why are doing this?” Arthur asked. Merlin leaned away, dropping the spoon back into the bowl resting on his knee with a soft clack. “Why are you still behaving like a servant?”

Merlin set the bowl down on the ground and leaned back in close to Arthur.

“It’s my destiny, as it has been since the day we met,” he said with a small smile.

Silence stretched between them and Merlin wished desperately that he knew what Arthur was thinking. It occurred to him that he could probably find out, if he chose to try. But, no, he wouldn’t invade Arthur’s privacy like that. It was bad enough he had lied to him for so long, pushing into his head and listening to his thoughts was, well, unthinkable. Merlin would simply have to wonder like everyone else. Finally, he couldn’t take the silence anymore. He leaned down even closer until his face was only inches from Arthur’s.

“I do this because of who you are. Without you, Camelot’s nothing.”

“There was a time that was true. Not now,” Arthur said, voice filled with a mixture of pride and sorrow. “There are many who can fill the crown.”

Merlin laughed humourlessly, amazed that Arthur could really think anyone could possibly live up to him. “There will never be another like you, Arthur.” Merlin picked the bowl and spoon back up. “I also do this because you’re my – er…well, I don’t want to lose you,” he said, lifting Arthur’s head with one hand and bringing to spoon to his lips with the other. He’d been about to say friend, but that wasn’t right. It hadn’t been the right word for what Arthur was to him for some time, even before the revelations of the past few days.

Arthur took the spoonful of stew and swallowed.

“Merlin…thank you. Everything you’ve done – for me, for Camelot, I know now. Just – thank you.”

Merlin laughed. “You don’t even know the half of it, sire.”

“Tell me the rest then. And eat yourself, you need your strength as much as I do.”

Merlin finished feeding Arthur, then scraped the remnants of their supper into the same bowl for himself before settling beside Arthur.

“Where did I leave off?”

“Your father,” Arthur prompted.

Merlin let out a breath. “Right. Well. You – uh – you didn’t actually kill the dragon. When my father died, his role passed on to me. I commanded Kilgarrah to leave and not return or harm Camelot ever again.” Merlin paused and gave Arthur a moment to let that sink in.

“How many of my achievements have actually been yours?” Arthur asked after a while.

“What – no – Arthur, you have done incredible things, this kingdom would have perished a hundred times over without you –”

“How many, Merlin?”

Merlin had to stop and think for a moment. There was the griffin, the dragon, Valiant right after he’d come to Camelot, that other young druid at another tournament, all the bandits and brigands he’d quietly taken out with conveniently falling tree branches or rocks, lifting the enchantment Morgana had put on Gwen, honestly, he wasn’t even sure he could remember all of them anymore.

Arthur let out a sigh. “Have I accomplished anything on my own all these years?” 

“Course you have. There was…” he had been about to say the quest for the morteus flower, but even unconscious, Merlin had used magic to help Arthur escape the cave. “Well there was – there was the time that…” Merlin thought through everything they had done together. “Ealdor,” he said finally.

“No, that was magic as well, the whirlwind.”

“Maybe, but we’d never have even gotten that far without you. You taught everyone to fight, you made them believe they could win. It was you who gave them their home back.” Everything had been a team effort really. As much as Merlin insisted he always worked himself to death running around saving Arthur, it went both ways. They needed each other.

“When people talk about us – the druids, creatures of magic – whenever I hear about the prophecy, it’s always about balance,” Merlin said. “The first time I met Kilgarrah, he said we were two sides of the same coin. A world without both of us in it is a world out of balance, according to the old religion.”

Arthur shifted and hissed at the pain in his side.

“I don’t think we were ever meant to accomplish anything separately. We were always supposed to be together.” Merlin moved to Arthur’s side and held the water skin to his mouth.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Arthur said after taking a drink. “I always thought being king meant never asking for help. Accepting aid showed weakness. How could my people have any respect, any faith in me if I couldn’t even take care of the kingdom on my own?” Arthur looked into the fire as if it held the answers to every question he’d ever had.

“Arthur, you can’t do everything by yourself. Your people know that. They respect you because you recognise your friends and allies as a strength. Uther…” Merlin trailed off. He really hadn’t meant to mention Arthur’s father. Not now.

“It’s alright, Merlin.” Arthur reached his hand out and Merlin took it. He still couldn’t believe this was something they could do now. Holding hands. It was almost as strange as using magic in front of Arthur. Merlin cleared his throat.

“Right. Well. Do you want to hear about how I managed not to die when the dorocha got me, or what really happened when we went looking for that dragon egg?” he asked.

“The dragon egg was destroyed, Merlin. The tower collapsed on it.”

“Well, not quite.”

“Merlin, what did you do to the dragon egg?” Arthur asked, forgetting about his wound and trying to sit up. He slumped back down and glared at Merlin.

“I may have, um, taken it.” Merlin rubbed the back of his neck and looked away from Arthur.

“You _what_ ,”

“And, uh, hatched it?”

Arthur stared at him open-mouthed, eyes searching Merlin’s. “It was alive?” he asked.

“Course it was alive. Dragons don’t just die, Arthur. I called her out of the egg and gave her a name. Aithusa. The light of the sun. It was…the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” Merlin leaned forward and added more wood to the fire, not wanting Arthur to see the tears in his eyes. He should have watched her more closely. Kilgarrah should have taken better care of her.

“The white dragon…” Arthur breathed. “The one Morgana had.”

“Yes. I don’t know what happened. I should have taken better care of her, kept a closer watch. Perhaps then…”

“Merlin, you cannot blame yourself.”

“I am the last dragonlord. She was my responsibility, Arthur. I failed her, just as I’ve failed you. If I’d kept her closer, not let Morgana get her, maybe things would have turned out differently.”

“ _Merlin_. Come here.”

Merlin rocked on his heels and scooted back to Arthur’s side, leaning in close. Arthur put a hand on the back of Merlin’s neck and slid it up into his hair. Gods, he could get used to this, Merlin thought.

“It’s not your fault.”

Merlin sighed and was ready to keep arguing, because it was all his fault and there were so many things he could have done differently, but Arthur’s hand moved to his shoulder, his arm around him, and he was being pulled against Arthur’s good side. He let his head rest on Arthur’s shoulder, shivering at the cold chainmail against his cheek. Arthur let out a frustrated sigh as he tried to move again and was hindered by his injury.

“What is it? Are you alright?” Merlin jumped up, looking over Arthur.

“I just…wanted to kiss you.”

“Oh.” Merlin moved slowly, settling back against Arthur, this time situating himself so that their faces could touch. He leaned forward and Arthur’s mouth was on his, soft, forgiving. Even after they stopped kissing, they lay with foreheads and noses touching. Merlin could feel Arthur’s breath, quick and hard on his face.

“Get some rest, Merlin.”


	6. you're not going to say goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of this chapter is taken straight from 5.13 and is mostly selfish wish fulfillment for what I wanted out of the finale

They stopped for a short rest just off the road. Merlin settled Arthur on a large fallen tree before digging through the saddlebags for the waterskin. Arthur’s face was pale enough to make Merlin feel sick. They’d been stopping more and more frequently and Arthur could barely keep himself in the saddle anymore. Even now he swayed alarmingly where Merlin had left him.

“Arthur, you need to hold on,” Merlin said, jogging back to him. “One more day.” He pulled Arthur up and let the king put his weight on him. “One more day,” he said, sounding unconvinced Arthur would last that long even to himself. But they’d made it this far hadn’t they? One more day and Arthur could be healed. He had to make it.

Merlin wiped Arthur’s brow and held the waterskin to his mouth.

“Why did you never tell me?” Arthur asked.

Merlin felt a stab of guilt. He’d never wanted to keep secrets from Arthur, in fact his life would likely have been much easier if he’d just told him, but he couldn’t have risked it.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” he said. “I – I never wanted to keep anything from you. Well, at first maybe. You really were an ass. And, like I said, I didn’t want to put you in an awkward position. After what happened to Gwen when Uther thought she was a witch, and then when her father was caught – I thought, if you couldn’t even help her when she’s not even a sorceress…”

Arthur’s eyes softened and studied Merlin. “And after I became king?” he asked.

Merlin looked away then.

“I was a coward,” he said to his feet. “I wanted to tell you, every day I wanted to – but I – I’d kept it for so long, it was all I knew. Even if I didn’t think you’d kill me, I was afraid you’d be angry that I’d kept it from you for so long and…I didn’t want to lose you.” Merlin helped Arthur take another drink of water.

“That explains the magic. What about the other secret? Why did you never tell me how you felt?”

Merlin laughed. “It took me years to figure it out myself. Once I had, you were to marry Gwen. And I could ask you the same question.” Merlin had always been so caught up in keeping his magic secret, keeping himself alive, that he’d never really even thought of confessing his feelings for Arthur as an option. Then Arthur and Gwen had gotten married. He’d thought there had been no hope. There had been glimpses of...something here and there, but he’d always convinced himself he was imagining things. It was better that way. 

Arthur let out a breath of laughter and winced. “Fair enough,” he said.

“We’re just a couple of real clotpoles aren’t we?” Merlin asked, grinning and imagining Gwen and the knights whispering bets and passing pouches of coins back and forth behind their backs.

“It would appear so,” Arthur said, leaning more of his weight on Merlin. Their eyes met and years of unspoken longing passed between them. Everything they had never been able to say poured out and the air grew thick between them. Arthur’s eyes moved to Merlin’s lips and sod it, Merlin had had enough of secrets and holding back and there was only the two of them here anyways. Merlin leaned forward and pressed his lips to Arthur’s, groaning without shame when Arthur’s tongue slid into his mouth. Merlin’s heartbeat went wild. He slid a hand up to Arthur’s neck and through his hair, clinging to the man like he was the only thing keeping him on earth. Which, at this point, was entirely possible.

Arthur leaned into the kiss and ran his hand up Merlin’s back and down his arm and gods this was everything Merlin had ever wanted.

He broke off before they started something they couldn’t finish and cleared his throat.

“Ready?” Merlin asked. They’d been stopped far too long already. Arthur nodded and let Merlin help him up and onto his horse.

They’d been riding for a few hours when Merlin held up a hand to halt them.

“Saxons?” Arthur asked. Since the battle, he had come to rely on Merlin even more and the pure trust between the with all their secrets out in the open was like nothing they’d ever felt.

Merlin focused and looked ahead. There was a small fire, smoking but abandoned for some time. He let out a breath and relaxed.

“They’re long gone.”

“How do you know?”

“I can…see the path ahead,” Merlin said.

The corner of Arthur’s mouth twitched. “So you’re not an idiot, that was another lie.”

Merlin’s chest constricted at that. He’d never wanted to lie to Arthur, about anything. If they made it through this, he was sure there would be several long conversations during which they untangled all the intricate knots Merlin had tied to protect them both.

“No, just another part of my charm,” he said, shooting Arthur a grin over his shoulder and spurring his horse forward once more.

It wasn’t long before Merlin heard more riders. He slowed and looked around for a place to hide.

“In there,” he said, leading them into a thicket off the road. Once they were suitably hidden, Merlin whispered a spell to cover the tracks they’d left on the road. Three riders, Saxons. They slowed, scanning the trees for an injured king and his wayward manservant. Merlin let them get close before reaching out with his magic to shake the branches of the trees in the opposite direction. The leader of the riders gave a shout and they all took off away from Merlin and Arthur.

“You’ve done this before,” Arthur said. His voice was soft, not accusatory, but the comment stung. “All these years, Merlin, you never once sought any credit.”

“That’s not why I do it,” Merlin said quickly. Credit was the last thing he wanted in fact. Sometimes he thought a bit of recognition would be nice, but in truth, he’d always been uncomfortable with attention. That was Arthur’s place, his own was in the background, quietly keeping his king and kingdom safe. Let Arthur have the glory, he deserved it. He turned and found Arthur staring at him as though he’d never seen him before. He hated Arthur looking at him like that, as if he was a different person now that the king had seen first-hand what he could do.

“Come on.” They had to push on, no matter what.

Just after dark, Merlin heard a grunt behind him and turned to see Arthur slumped forward on his horse.

“Arthur!” He reigned in, slid off his own horse, and was at Arthur’s side in seconds pushing him back up. Arthur’s breathing was laboured.

“I can’t go on,” he said, unable to hold himself straight. The words were like a sword to Merlin’s side.

“There’s not far to go, we need to reach the lake before dawn.”

Arthur’s eyes fluttered. “No, Merlin.” He shook his head. “No.”

“Alright,” Merlin said. “We rest for an hour.” If they kept stopping like this, they’d never make it to the Lake of Avalon in time. Merlin pushed aside the sinking feeling in his stomach and helped Arthur off his horse to lay down on the forest floor. He used a bit of magic to arrange the ground into a comfortable seat for Arthur against a log. Built a fire quickly, using magic, gave Arthur more water. Panic had been rising in his chest all afternoon and he thought he might be sick.

“Merlin.” Arthur blinked slowly. “Whatever happens…”

“Sh,” Merlin interrupted. “Don’t talk.”

“I’m the king, Merlin, you can’t tell me what to do.”

Merlin forced a smile at the familiar banter. “I always have,” he said, “I’m not going to change now.”

Arthur’s face grew serious.

“I don’t want you to change. I want you to…always…be you.”

Merlin froze. Arthur had never spoken to him like this before. The sudden earnestness was unsettling and Merlin had to try very hard to hold back the tears that threatened at the edge of his vision.

“I’m sorry about how I treated you,” Arthur continued, waving a finger like he was scolding someone, himself perhaps. This was starting to sound far too much like a goodbye for Merlin’s taste. Arthur’s head lolled to the side. Merlin lurched forward and put a hand on him to keep him conscious.

“Hey, does that mean you’re going to give me a day off?” he said, in a failed attempt at lightening the conversation.

“Two,” Arthur declared, the ghost of a smile flitting across his half-aware features.

“That’s generous,” Merlin said with a smile.

Arthur’s eyelids drooped and his head fell forward. Merlin put a hand on his neck, trying to feel for a pulse without making it obvious. He let out a sigh at the reassuring thump-thump under Arthur’s skin.

“Get some sleep,” he whispered, touching Arthur’s forehead with his own.

The tears did come, then, pouring forth as Merlin clutched Arthur to him, unable to stop the flood. He knew in his heart there was only one way this ended, but he still had to try. For Arthur’s sake, for Guinevere’s and the knights’. He’d meant what he’d said before. Camelot was nothing without Arthur. Merlin’s life was nothing without Arthur.

He’d shaken Arthur awake, got him back on his horse again, got them moving. They crested a hill and Merlin stopped the horses again, helping Arthur down.

“Avalon,” he said, pointing down at the island with the tower. “We’ll get there.” Merlin was catching his breath from carrying Arthur to where they now sat when the horses started up with a cry and turned to run off, lost in the night before Merlin could stop them.

“Hello Emrys,” a voice behind him said. He turned to face Morgana and found himself jerked away from the ground, flying through the air to hit the forest floor with a hard thud that knocked the air out of his lungs. 

“What a joy it is to see you Arthur.” The icy voice penetrated the entire forest. “Look at you,” Morgana said, moving next to Arthur and half crouching. “Not so tall and mighty now.”

Arthur tried to reach for his sword but found his scabbard empty.

“You may have won the battle, but you lost the war. You’re going to die by Mordred’s hand,” Morgana said, smiling. “Don’t worry dear brother, I won’t let you die alone. I’ll stay and watch over you, ‘til the wolves gorge on your carcass and bathe in your blood.” Her voice was filled with malice, so deep and unyielding that the entire forest felt cold. There was no sign of the kind young woman she had once been.

“No,” Merlin said, looming over both Pendragons. “The time for all this bloodshed is over.” He held Excalibur, casually pointed at Morgana. “I blame myself for what you’ve become.” And he really did. He could have done things differently, could have at least let Morgana know he understood what she was going through all those years ago. If he had, they might not be here now.

“This has to end.”

Morgana stood straight, sticking her chin out in defiance. “I’m a high priestess. No mortal blade can kill me.”

They were far past hesitation or guilt now. Merlin simply thrust Excalibur forward without warning, feeling the blade sink into Morgana’s flesh with a sickening sound. He held her as she fell.

“This is no mortal blade,” he said. “Like yours, it was forged in a dragon’s breath.” He shoved the blade further and Morgana gasped, collapsing in Merlin’s arms and for the second time, he held his old friend as the life went out of her. He let her fall, freeing the blade as she hit the ground, feeling strangely numb to her death.

“Goodbye Morgana.”

Arthur’s eyes were on his half-sister as she took her last ragged breath. Merlin hurried to his side and hauled him up. They needed to get to the lake now. Arthur gave Merlin a look he couldn’t quite place.

“You’ve brought peace at last,” the king said, smiling.

There was no time to appreciate the importance of Morgana’s death now. The lake. They must get to the lake. Arthur must live. Merlin more than half carried him through the forest.

“We have to make it to the lake,” he said as they emerged into a clearing. Merlin stumbled under Arthur’s weight and they sank to the ground together.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, panting. “Not without the horses.”

_No._ Merlin thought. _No, no, no._ Not now, not after everything. All the times he’d saved Arthur’s life, all they’d done for Camelot. Not after they’d come all this way. This was not happening. But he’d known this was how it would end, and Arthur knew now, perhaps he had all along. The journey from Camlann to Avalon had just been a drawn out goodbye.

Merlin squirmed beneath the king, trying to get them both back up but between his own exhaustion and Arthur being too weak to carry himself, he couldn’t manage it.

“It’s too late,” Arthur whispered. “Too late.”

Merlin managed to arrange them so that he sat on the grass with Arthur sprawled across his lap.

“All your magic Merlin, you can’t save my life.”

“I can,” Merlin said, still defiant, even if he didn’t believe a word himself. “I’m not going to lose you.”

“Just – just…just hold me, please, Merlin.” The please wrenched at Merlin’s heart and he stopped moving, stopped trying to get Arthur up. All the fight and defiance of the past few days drained out of him and all he wanted now was to give Arthur what he wanted.

“I’m here, Arthur. I’m here.”

The eyes he’d spent so long admiring from a distance and half-heartedly avoiding were on him now, looking past status and power and position, straight into the heart of him. 

“There’s something I want to say,” Arthur said between laboured breaths.

“You’re not going to say goodbye.”

“No,” Arthur said. “Merlin, I want to say something – I’ve never said to you before.” He reached up with the last of his strength and placed a hand on Merlin’s face, stroking the cheekbone with his thumb. “I love you.”

Then the hand fell. Arthur’s body went limp in Merlin’s arms.

“Arthur,” he said, desperately. “No. No.” He shook Arthur, trying to wake him up, but this was no mere sleep. “Arthur!”

Pain erupted from Merlin in a cry that echoed through the forest and across the lake. The very earth itself was nearly torn apart at the agony of the sound. Merlin could feel it. He felt Arthur’s absence in his soul, sharp and hot, as if it was he who had been stabbed, not his king. He didn’t even realize his cries had formed words until the familiar flapping of wings overhead announced Kilgarrah’s arrival.


End file.
